


A Favour For a Foe

by Itssonotover



Category: Leverage
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:56:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itssonotover/pseuds/Itssonotover
Summary: The three of them have been an efficient team for three years since Nate and Sophie left. Living and working together. But despite their best intentions, a few secrets are being kept. As the truth is shared, there're challenges to be faced.





	1. Fresh Air and Exercise

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Leverage or any of the Characters, writing for nothing more than emotional gain! If I owned it, it would be back on our screens.
> 
> My first ever work of fanfiction. Rating will change for later chapters, there's going to be sex and violence!

If you’d told Alec three years ago, that he’d have different running shoes for when Eliot and he ran along the waterfront than when they went off the sidewalk and into the park… well, he’d have asked what in the name of all that was civilised, he was doing running in an age when a tap on a screen will get you everything delivered; just like that? No fuss as long as you let Eliot see you tip the courier.  
And yet. Here he was wondering why he was being made to get his “these babies only pound asphalt, they are too pretty for mud” sneakers seriously messed up running along this track which was barely a track. “I mean come on man.” His mind supplied. “Messing up these kicks is just… well… messed up.” Sadly, with the panting and wiping sweat out of his eyes, he couldn’t actually holler his objections at the back of Eliot’s head. 

And yes, Eliot’s head. Hair still shorter, never allowed to grow back after it’s sudden cropping in Washington, was now sprinkled with a little grey, not over much, but enough that Alec could remember the 8 years his friend had on him. Ought to mean that keeping up with him shouldn’t still be so damned hard! But it was. The hitter still had a sturdy but fluid gait as he ran, thighs still thick and strong with toned muscle, waist still narrowing from the broad shoulders, firm glutes still powerful… Wait. No. Alec had definitely had words with himself about watching Eliot’s ass.  
As they finally burst back out of the undergrowth, Alec caught a fickle tree root and stumbled forward. The man in front slowed, huffed out an “Ooof” as his running mate stumbled into his back, catching himself on his shoulders!

“Damn it Hardison” Eliot swivelled on the spot to better support his friend, so that Alec’s large hands rested on his chest, while he cupped his own smaller, but powerful paws under Alec's elbows to steady him.  
“You’re like a stork on a frozen pond! What if I hadn’t been in front of you?” Eliot ranted, as if they’d been fleeing from an angry bear and it mattered, rather than, as was actually the case, this was just a run for… oh Alec didn’t know what the bleeping bell it was for, not fun! Fitness? Morale? Male bonding time? No. Wait. Parker and Eliot ran together too, so that last one wasn’t it.

“Seriously man? You dragging a brother all through the undergrowth on a Saturday afternoon like a demented Scout Leader, dirtying up my state of the art running shoes. Quick trip along the waterfront you said, no need to drag my feet you said, just a bit of fresh air and sunshine for my vitamin D levels right? Now you all up in my face when I didn’t bring my machete for hacking the damned undergrowth…”  
Hardison would doubtless have continued if his need to draw breath, to draw a lot of breaths in quick succession, hadn’t interrupted him and Eliot was grateful for the pause.

“I wouldn’t let you near a machete. Put your hands on your head.” He instructed, just as he did every time Hardison prioritised talking over breathing while taking exercise. Which was actually a lot these days. They ran together, Parker had both of them doing a little yoga with her, well at the same time as she did considerably more advanced moves! He’d been weight training Hardison since Boston, but the last couple of years, he’d got in really good shape. Eliot knew that shape pretty intimately. Pointing out a stretch here, where a muscle group should be working there, adjusting a grip or stance. He had a dozen legitimate reasons to touch Alec’s body every day and he did. 

Parker’s body too was familiar territory to him, as he continued to help improve her fighting skills, as he acted as a boost or human ladder on a job. He touched her smooth, aquiline lines all the time. Touched both all the time. But if he was brutally honest with himself, he knew with his many legitimate reasons, he was actually just fulfilling a need. He needed to be close to them in all the ways that were allowed, it made-up for all the ways he wanted them that were really not allowed.  
The rise and fall of Hardison’s chest had become less urgent and Eliot realised two things simultaneously. Firstly, he was staring at Hardison’s chest and secondly, that if he didn’t get Hardison moving right now, he was going to cool down too far too fast and they’d have one of those arguments about why they can’t get a cab home from this run.  
“Come on. Let’s head back. I’ll clean your shoes for you if you don’t fucking whine the whole way from here to the pub. Okay?” Eliot was already bargaining before he’d even heard the opener – when had he become so stupidly soft for this guy? Such a push-over he wasn’t even being pushed. He was laying down. He’d lay down for either of them.  
“Damn straight you’re cleaning them. This is some state-of-the-art footwear bro, you know how my allergies are man, I need me some efficient wicking, I can’t be having sweaty feet. That’s just nasty. Do you want me to get a rash because the breathable fibres are all clogged-up with God alone knows what?! Do you?” What Hardison hadn’t quite realised as he embarked on one of his customary lectures, was that as he ranted, Eliot was picking up the speed and they were managing a light running pace again - he might be soft for his partners, but he knew how to work their eccentricities too.  
“Shut up Hardison. You think I want to be giving a minute's thought to your rashy feet? Seriously? What is wrong with you? You can’t be allergic to your own sweat. You think I wouldn’t know that by now?” Eliot knew that if he kept Alec distracted long enough with an argument, they’d cover more ground before he had to cave in and let them walk the last couple of miles home.  
“How do you know I ain’t allergic to my own sweat? You a qualified dermatologist now are you?” Hardison panted, keeping apace beside the shorter man despite his exhaustion, just to better ensure he heard his furious objections to the turn this particular jaunt had taken, from casual run into downright military grade training exercise. Well, almost.  
“I’d know if you were allergic to your own sweat Hardison, I’ve seen you sweaty plenty of times.” Eliot blushed as the words left his mouth. Why? For Christ’s sake? Why would he blush? He panicked. It’s a normal conversation. He flicked his eyes rapidly at the taller man to gauge his reaction. Had he noticed his blushing? Alec was looking back at him intently but cast his gaze away as their eyes met.  
“Wait.” Alec slowed to a trot and then a walk. After making the most of his faster progress to put a small distance between them, to give him breathing space from the accidental intimacy of the previous conversation, hoping from further away, the flush on the back of his neck looked simply exertion related, Eliot slowed too and let Hardison catch him up. They weren’t far from home now and Eliot looked down at his watch, calculating their distance and time in his head, logging the info for later.

 

“Wait.” Alec repeated. “Why are you pushing me so hard anyway? This is like the fourth run we’ve been on this week and it’s only Saturday. I’m a hacker Eliot. How fit do you think I need to be? If the CIA catch me hacking the Pentagon they are going to have choppers man, I ain’t gonna be able to out run them! That there’s just crazy talk. Nobody catching me hacking anything! That’s just laughable.”  
Eliot realised that Hardison had distracted himself from his own line of questioning and tried to keep him on that tangent, but he only came up with a weak-assed accusation about how Hardison couldn’t hack the Pentagon, which was a total loss, because they both knew he already had. It gave the hacker time to re-order his thoughts and bring himself back to task. But now they’d reached the back steps to the brewpub and the call of a hot shower brought Eliot a reprieve.

“Now I am stinking and filthy and need a shower, but we are not done with this topic of conversation my man. Ain’t no good reason to be dragging your resident genius on cross country training missions and we are addressing this issue.” Alec raised an arm as he spoke, inhaling lightly and grimacing, “But only after I have restored my usual beautiful aroma.” He added as he stalked across the lounge and into his and Parker’s bedroom, presumably to the multi-head shower he’d installed in there.

Eliot sighed deeply, definitely not showing any surprise as Parker popped up from where she’d obviously been laying flat on the sofa, concealed from their view as they walked in.  
“You’ve been torturing Hardison again Sparky. His times are getting better, but you don’t look any less worried.” She cocked her head on one side and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “We made a deal to change together Eliot, not to change each other.” Her tone was mild, but the accusation had the potential to be serious. Eliot winced. Then winced again as he realised he’d done it visibly.  
“Taking a shower.” He growled.

“Good idea.” Parker replied as she disappeared once again from his line of vision, to lay back down. “You’ll want to be clean to cook dinner while you explain what’s going on.”  
He felt like her appraising gaze was on him as he stood opening and closing his mouth redundantly, letting denials and diversions come and go unspoken. But even Parker couldn’t see through furniture could she?

“I’ll be out in twenty. I’ll make that spiced chicken but you two are eating whatever vegetables I give you.” He sounded fierce enough, but he knew that she knew, that arguing about broccoli wasn’t going to distract her from interrogating him. He had been caught out in his plan and explanations were going to be required.


	2. A Refreshing Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta and I saw a lot of typos in my first chapter! I have tried to spot them.

The hot water jetting at him from every angle felt pretty good. Actually, pushing himself hard and then seeing the results felt pretty good, but Hardison was damned if he was going to tell Eliot that. God alone knew where that might end. Stretching first one arm and then the other over his head, he cast his eyes down, watching the play of muscle across his abdomen. If you’re a hacker whose girl is the world’s best and most beautiful thief, it can’t hurt to cut a fine figure. He wondered if Eliot ever noticed the impressive results of his insistence on a regular training routine. 

“Jeebus woman!” Hardison shot about three inches into the air, skating for a few seconds regaining his footing, as slim, pale fingers slipped around his waist from behind and danced across his skin. He’d totally not heard her slip into the bathroom, remove her clothes or slide silently in behind him. Years might have passed, but she could still surprise the hell out of him. It may have added to the shock that he’d just been remembering the furious flush on Eliot’s face and neck earlier.

“Dangerous Mama, a man could break his neck. Seriously, sneaking up on people in the shower is just asking for trouble woman…” His bluster trailed off as she pressed her body up against him, the pleasing slide as she stood on tippy-toe to speak in his ear, making him grunt softly and involuntarily.

“Sorry. Do you want me to get out?” Her voice revealed a slight waver, a note of uncertainty, but she didn’t move to put any distance between them. Still she was always this combination of bold and shameless, but with just a lingering undertone of insecurity. It wouldn’t matter how hard or for how long he loved her now in the present, there’d always be that lingering fear left over from a past pocked with rejections; he’d happily give all of his future over to assuaging those fears, to soothing those scars.

He gulped: “Nope. No. Definitely don’t go anywhere. Right there is good. Right there is excellent.” He felt her smile against his back and heard her hum happily. He still had no idea how he got to be such a lucky man. As she slid her hands down across his stomach, he engaged in a little reflexive beseeching of his maker. As she reached the erection which had been beginning before Parker had even announced her presence, he felt a pang of guilt. 

“Babe, we need to talk about Eliot.” He confessed with some regret, the direction she’d been taking was certainly promising, but Alec wasn’t prepared to give her, to give sex with her, only half his attention. She deserved all of him and right now he was preoccupied.

“We can talk about Eliot”, she replied in a breathy alto, tightening her grip on his hard dick and beginning a gentle pumping action as she drifted gently around his body until they were standing face-to-face. He put down his hand to still her action.  
“Mama, Parker, Babe, I’m thinking about him.” He closed his eyes, his brows knitted together and turned his face a little from her. She stayed still but didn’t release her grip. Fear passed over him in a tangible wave. He still loved her and wanted her as much as he ever had, but he wasn’t going to give her less than she deserved. Less that complete honesty. He’d been thinking of Eliot when this arousal started.

“Me to.” She whispered. “He’s taking a shower as well. Do you think he’s thinking about us?”

Hardison’s eyes widened for a minute and zipped back to look directly at her. She held his gaze with nothing but open enquiry on her face. No. scrub that. Wide pupils, plump lips, hooded lids. There was open enquiry sure, but also arousal.

“You want him to be thinking about us in the shower?” He asked her then, running his hands up her arms, down her back and letting them come to rest on her firm, rounded ass, bringing his body even closer in to hers so that her nipples caressed his skin, they were hard and she panted a little as she spoke next.

“Is that okay? It’s not just me is it?” She was just brushing against him impossibly gentle contact passing a current back and forth between them. She’d come to physical affection later in life than most and had approached it with her usual thoughtful, clinical objectivity. That wasn’t to say she lacked passion, hell no, but it did mean she’d appreciated the pleasures, the subtleties of every step on the way to the whole hog. She could make exquisite foreplay of just barely touching. Just barely touching while she confessed a shared desire, voice syrupy with want. It was almost enough to short circuit him, to shut down any cogent thought, but words were required. 

“Oh hell no Mama, it’s so not just you. I feel it too. Been hiding from the idea for a while. I want him here with us. I want you both.” She breathed hard and began to palm his erection against her own belly as she listened to his honest confession and he let the sensation roll through him. But Alec’s brain could ruin a moment for him on a scale only a genius could achieve and suddenly a terrifying thought struck him a different kind of stiff.

“Wait. You do still want me too right?” Oh no. She looked angry then. No, not just angry, offended. Snatching her hand away unceremoniously.

“You think I’d be in here with you… doing… doing… this if I didn’t… want… want… this?!” She was righteous indignation and confusion, gesticulating between them with a furiously flapping hand, trying to convey the this-ness of her meaning. “You think I’d try to have sex with you if I didn’t want to have sex with you anymore?!” 

Fuck. Quick brain, Alec demanded of himself, supply useful, intelligent thought not suffused with needless insecurity. As she began to turn the latest disgruntled flap into a more purposeful move and span away from him, he caught her around the waist, pulling her back under the warm water, back towards his body, dipping his head down to catch her tight, angry lips trying to soften them with the warmth of his own. 

Parker liked actions. Feelings, even Alec’s feelings, often remained somewhat mysterious to her, but she could read his body like a floor plan of The Met, she could feel love in his lips, want and care in the gentle but insistent grip of his arms. 

“I definitely still love you.” She whispered into his face as their lips parted. “I still love you in all the ways Alec. I couldn’t want to touch you if I didn’t like it anymore.” She cast her eyes down almost sadly, as if perhaps she was afraid her ardent affections, her inability to dissemble with sex were in any way a fault and he hurried to reassure her.

“I’m sorry Parker.” Alec kissed his apology into her neck, her shoulder and eventually back at her mouth. Peppering her skin with heartfelt apologies until she giggled. 

“Look Mama this is a bit weird okay? Not bad. But weird, you know?” He asked her honestly, brows raised and a slight shrug.

“But you’re the one who’s good with the feelings stuff. I thought you’d get it. I see the way you look at him, like he’s a security system you’re dying to hack. Doesn’t it make it simpler that I feel the same way?”

“I know normal is whatever works for us babygirl, but the whole getting-off on both wanting Eliot. It’s pretty wide of the simple mark. I don’t have much frame of reference for this you know?” He shut of the water and stepped out of the shower stall. Turning back he wrapped first her and them himself in the thick, obscenely fluffy towels he favoured. Adding, as they both strolled into the bedroom and Parker plopped onto the bed. “Anyway, you’ve forgotten a key variable, we don’t know if Eliot feels the same way.”

 

At that, Parker looked troubled. “We shouldn’t think about Eliot in a naked way, if he doesn’t think of us like that.” She stated sadly. “It feels squinky. Rude.” She pulled the kind of icky face he’d mostly only seen her wear when she tried again to enjoy cotton candy. You’d think she’d love it, but the texture just caught her wrong. She had a point, perving on your best friend accidentally in your head was one thing, out loud fantasising with your girl, naked, in the shower, was another.

“We need to talk to him anyway, you should get dressed.” She instructed him as he finished a leisurely application of body butter and wandered into their walk in wardrobe. Parker inhaled deeply, he did smell good, like almonds and the kind of perfumed tea Sophie had liked to drink in the afternoons.

“I’m sorry? We should what now?!” Hardison shot back out into sight stumbling into a pair of jeans, as if he was afraid she would embark immediately on the conversation with Eliot if he wasn’t there to stop her. Somehow she was already dressed, well, after a fashion. She was wearing black yoga shorts and his Hall and Oates Private Eyes Tour T-Shirt, her wet hair dampening the white cotton, making it look a lot sexier than when he wore it.

“Woman, we are not just strolling out there, bold as you like to ask Eliot Spencer, terrifying hitter, if he wants to have sex. Not just with you, a beautiful woman, but with me. A man. A man who fell face-first into him less than an hour ago.” 

“You fall into Eliot all the time. And I jump on him, that’s not a thing. But no. Not about the sex. That’ll have to wait.” She said matter of factly. “We’ve more important things to worry about. We need to find out what Eliot’s afraid of.”

“What Eliot’s afraid of?” Hardison looked dubious. “I’d settle for finding out why he’s taking me on cross country adventures, messing up my kicks.”

“Yup.” Parker popped the p at the end of the word with purpose. “Same thing. Plus, I want chicken.” 

With that she was gone. And with the determined look on her face, Alec thought he knew what Eliot should be afraid of and that was Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was going to write some smut for a moment there... but the characters just couldn't hold the mood after such a serious chat!


	3. A Shower of emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've managed to write Eliot in the shower without getting distracted describing his body! Bonus points for me!  
> I'll ask Parker and Hardison to tell us about his body in a future chapter.

“I’ll be out in twenty. I’ll make that spiced chicken but you two are eating whatever vegetables I give you.” Eliot had growled out fiercely as he’d turned on his heel and made for his room, for a shower, for sanctuary. 

He’d managed to imbibe the redirection with a level of growling menace that would have fazed most people. He couldn’t see Parker as he stalked away, but the back of the sofa had a very distinctive look of the un-fazed.

They’d expanded out into the neighbouring building the previous year, when the owner of the workshop next door had retired, Hardison paying over the odds to give the old guy’s pension pot a boost. Downstairs remained as a workshop and garage, where Hardison could keep his damn lasers and industrial strength electro-magnets. Where Eliot could keep his motorcycle, pick-up and the dodge. Where Parker assured them, totally unconvincingly, that she kept absolutely no explosives of any kind. None.

The upper floor however, had made space for a training room, alongside a bedroom with inset roof terrace and generous en-suite. He’d moved in without any real discussion. Hardison simply had the work done, it was clearly for Eliot and Eliot just took up the unspoken offer.

The buildings didn’t perfectly align, the small landing and split level somehow let him fool himself he had his own apartment, it was right there where he could be close-by for jobs, it was so much easier to keep them safe this way. So much easier for him to know they were safe if he could see them, hear them, smell them. He’d lived in plenty of shared accommodation over the years, living with his team, not really any different than living in barracks, or in camp with his unit. 

He leaned in to the slate tiled shower stall to set the water running, peeling off his clothes as he waited the few seconds for the stream to run hot. It was a simpler affair than Hardison’s ludicrously decadent bathroom. Now, Eliot still wouldn’t have chosen anything so luxurious for himself, but he had to admit, the over-sized multi-function massage shower-head made perfect sense when he came home from a job battered and sore. 

Stepping under the flow, he looked now at the chunky stainless-steel bars with hooks and hanging storage. They gave the impression of being purely an aesthetic choice, but Eliot had quickly learned that they were grab rails in disguise – useful if wounded or concussed and unsteady. He’d seen Hardison nurture Parker this way; silent, wordless gestures of extreme thoughtfulness, that showed his love for her. It had made Eliot feel curiously brittle to discover that he himself, was having similar gifts of sweet action bestowed upon him. He’d let himself take pleasure in it.

 

He’d been letting himself take too much pleasure in both of them, for too long. He’d seen the dangers with Parker early on. How anybody could fail to notice that she was fiercely beautiful was beyond him. That first job, within just a few minutes, she’d done a hanging sit-up, casually while chatting, no obvious sign of strain, before neatly swallow-diving off the top of the building with a whoop of sheer joy. That combination of serious fitness, courage and passion, sent a shiver down his spine. But back then, her reputation for being not just crazy, but actually insane, had preceded her. Then Hardison had declared an interest. Matter closed.

But now? Well he trained with her nearly every day, quickly learning she was an equal. Smooth lines, toned, firm and worked for utility. Parker honed her body, not for vanity but as a tool and he respected that somewhere down deep, he grew a physical attraction that was about more than sending blood to his dick, although she had that effect on him too, more and more often. 

He grunted with realisation and irritation, she was having that effect on him now. It wasn’t just thinking of her milky pale skin, or whipcord firm curves. It was her deep, dark eyes full of both knowing, but also innocence, the crinkle in her forehead a physical manifestation of how hard she thought about things! And just picturing that made him chuckle fondly, but as he saw in his mind’s eye, her blindingly bright smile it brought a lump to his throat. If he didn’t love her, then he didn’t know what love was, because there surely weren’t feelings more all consuming than this in the world?

Except those feelings had an equal. Hardison’s appeal had come more out of left field, he certainly hadn’t done a lot for him at first sight. But Eliot was perceptive, he could see that shining, clean, vitality and wellness, which beamed off the guy. It was rare in their world, not the hitter’s line of country, but distinctive, so worthy of note. As Hardison had watched him that first time, take out the four guards without mortally wounding any of them and all in the time it’d taken the hacker to surrender, he’d been interested to see how the younger man was happy to let the effects of that little display show right there on his face. He’d looked at the muscle, openly impressed and unembarrassed by the lust it had inspired. That took a sort of courage and honesty which was even rarer still in their business, so once more, Eliot had taken note.

It was hard not to admire his broad shoulders, legs which were long but not spindly, rather strong and, it transpired, he was a pretty good runner. As bumping shoulders, hugging and eventually laying hands on exposed skin, had become features of their friendship, Eliot learned that the hacker had a velvet softness in his body which mirrored that in his personality. 

But what slayed Eliot, what really brought him to his knees, was the learning that Hardison was the kind of clean vitality that Eliot was allowed to be near, allowed to touch. More than that, encouraged to touch, when he’d thought that kind of treasure was forbidden to him now. Alec had a willingness to offer himself without it making him vulnerable, like whatever warmth and emotion he was sharing with you, it was okay, he had more, he had enough. He could stay soft in this hard, cold world and yet he didn’t break, always recovered, always healed and with only the faintest of scars.

Eliot surveyed the room, including the two exits Parker insisted every bathroom needed, in the mirrors she had carefully positioned to give him 360 visibility. As he lathered up an unbleached hemp wash net he hadn’t bought, with the locally made, biodegradable, clay and geranium soap which just appeared in his bathroom as if by magic, he sighed deeply. When had he relaxed into this? Letting them take care of him? It had been careless, and it was only going to make what was coming next all the more damn difficult.

They’d fallen into too many familiar comforts, the three of them. Like, he knew there wasn’t really a fight to pick about broccoli, spinach or even kale. These days both Hardison and Parker had grown accustomed to getting their seven-a-day. If they’d noticed, that lately he’d pushed it to ten, they hadn’t said anything.  
“Least not to you.” His subconscious helpfully allowed to bubble-up. If Parker had noticed that he was pushing Alec’s training pretty hard, there was a real possibility that she’d noted the other changes he’d made in the last three weeks too.

“Fuck”. It’d been three weeks already.  
Three weeks of getting Hardison in tip-top condition.  
Three weeks of upping the sparring sessions and weights with Parker.  
Three weeks of pointlessly trying to fill them both with vitamins while he still could.  
Three weeks of getting them ready.  
Three weeks of getting ready to leave them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I did't know how I'd feel about it, but I find the reviews really motivating. Happy to hear constructive criticism as well as compliments! Like, I am trying to get the hang of the formatting since that first chapter.
> 
> Getting concerned it may run to more than ten chapters now, these guys don't want to hurry through the life I've given them in my head!


	4. Not the Enemy

He shut off the water, wrapped himself in a bath towel and grabbed a smaller one for his hair, it was shorter now than it used to be, but it was still pretty thick and took a bit of drying. Padding out to his bedroom, he opened a drawer and pulled on boxers, before heading into the closet and putting on a pair of well-worn jeans. 

He’d been longer in the shower than he intended, partly because he wanted to linger in this moment before he had to explain himself to Parker, well to both of them. He didn’t know how this was going to play out. Grabbing a navy Henley to pull on, he took a deep breath as he grasped the handle.

“What the f…?! Parker?!” He didn’t startle. He didn’t. As he’d opened his door, there she was, stood right the other side of it, on his small landing.  
“Seriously? How long have you been stood there?” Her face was impassive and she gave no ground, standing right in the same spot, as if unaware that Eliot’s naked torso was barely inches from her own body.  
“You were too long.” She said bluntly.  
“I’m just coming Parker. He replied. “You ate lunch darlin’, how hungry can you be? I’m not your own personal short-order chef.” Eliot was definitely taking refuge in the bickering.

“You’re not a tall chef Eliot. And it’s not because I’m hungry. Well I am hungry. I switched the oven on for you before I took Hardison’s shower with him, it should be hot. But I’m not here about the chicken. Or the vegetables. I won’t argue with you about the vegetables. But we need to talk about that. And the running and the new choke holds.” Even now, Parker could be apparently surreal and while he’d learned that this was because she saw the connections between things other people might miss, that last speech was still too much for Eliot to process.

“Not a short chef, a short order… you know what? No. Just no. Do we need to have this conversation here on the landing? Or can I go make dinner?” Eliot gesticulated with the hand still clutching his shirt and Parker finally seemed to notice his state of undress. She let her gaze travel over him, licked her own lips and then looked at his, before letting their eyes meet as she spoke. 

“We don’t have to do it here.” The way she said it, teamed with the way she’d been looking at him, it was suffused with innuendo. But first-up, Parker didn’t do innuendo and secondly, an absent, void mask dropped across her face then, that froze him. 

“But the fact you’ve been teaching me ways to kill people, that’ll upset Hardison, so I wanted to tell you I noticed that, while he isn’t here.” And wasn’t that a sucker punch he didn’t see coming.

“I’m not teaching you to… you don’t have to… I can’t help… Okay.” It really wasn’t okay. Parker however, nodded once and it was like she moved back in to her own face again. Her ability to temporarily remove herself horrified him. Not because he was horrified by her, but because it always stung him hard, that no matter how well he protected her now, he couldn’t undo whatever she’d been through that taught her that skill. Whatever hurt or indignity she’d survived by being, simply not there.

 

“Good. You should put your shirt on.” And with that she span on one foot and was gone, so fast he could still feel the swish of her pony tail after she’d disappeared. Eliot put his shirt on.

He found her again in the kitchen, perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, while Hardison lounged on the long low sofas in the lounge, ostentatiously busy with something on a laptop. From his vantage point, he’d be able to hear any conversation and be heard if he chose, but he’d have plausible deniability. The I’m here but I’m not here, just carry on like I ain’t in the room was a stock in trade technique the hacker employed with skill. Eliot strongly suspected he was aware of it, he straight up knew that Parker was. 

Eliot pulled on an apron, no sense getting clean clothes dirty and washed his hands, waiting for Parker to pull the trigger. But as he pulled out onions, garlic, cumin seeds, turmeric and fenugreek, she stayed silent. When he looked up, she was just watching him, she looked a little happy, a little sad and some other emotion he couldn’t read, lingered in her eyes. Something which felt incongruous to him, but somehow looked right?

Hardison was marshalling his feelings in a way which Eliot suspected took everything he had, studiously busy, but clearly waiting for something to happen, there was a tension in his shoulders that said, ‘I don’t like this, but I know it has to happen.’ He’d had seen the hacker settle into the pose on the few occasions he’d had to have stitches. It was a very distinctive posture.

There was clearly an open invitation to speak of his own volition and Eliot wasn’t the kind of fool who’d walk, fully aware, into such an obvious trap. But then again, he wasn’t a damn coward either. Still, he set the spices dry roasting in a pan, aside from the fenugreek, which quickly gets bitter. Popped the chicken thighs in with the now tempered onions and pulled stock from the fridge. He cubed a block of coconut cream, added the stock, minced garlic diced celery and carrots and set it all to a low simmer.

“You gonna get started with your interrogation darlin’? Or can you slice this at the same time?” He asked mildly, holding up a cucumber, some coriander and a chef’s knife. Parker didn’t say a word but stood gracefully on the rung of her high stool, reaching over for the items. Eliot huffed and glared at her as he stalked around the island to hand them to her.

“I ain't handing you a knife while you balance like that Parker, it’s not safe.” He flinched as he said it and looked away and down for a moment while a wave of pain washed over him. And that’s when she surprised him once again, coming at him from a place he couldn’t have foreseen. Slipping serenely from her perch, she was in his body space before he knew what was happening. She uncrossed his arms, which he’d folded protectively in front of himself and stepped into an embrace, laying her cheek against his and rubbing a hand up and down his back slowly, a soothing gesture she’d learned from Sophie for the purpose of cons, but now knew how to deploy with genuine intent.

“It’s okay Eliot, it’ll be okay. Whatever’s going on, we can make a plan and fix it together. That’s what we do. But you can’t deal with this on your own. For better or for worse remember? We stick together.” She sounded so sure, not angry either, but disappointed. He badly wanted to relax into her touch and take the comfort she offered. But he couldn’t.  
“Not this time darlin'.” He disentangled himself from her delicate but strong arms.

“Dammit Eliot! Rude, that’s what that is. Arrogant.” Hardison stood and glowered at him, although he stayed on the other side of the room. “You the big strong man, can’t share his secrets, gotta suffer in silence. Make a bunch of promises you got no damned intention of keeping.” Alec losing the plot and being the one to find his rage, it was disconcerting. A role reversal, with Parker being cool and soothing, Hardison coming at him with temper and accusations. Their attack had him turned about and his reflex was to defend himself, to come out fighting.

“Where do you get off telling me I can’t take care of my business on my own? I made promises to keep you safe and then the first time I have to make a tough call to do that, you come at me with your holier than thou, we share everything crap. I never said I wouldn’t keep no secrets from you two.” Eliot was on a roll now, finding righteous fury and pretending to himself it wasn’t a relief to discover a reason not to tell them what was going on. He was saying things he was going to regret, but like a fox that’s started in on the chicken coup, he carried on despite having no hunger for it. 

He growled low. “You wanna sleep at night, with me just across the landing, you’d better hope I keep some secrets, because if you start wanting full disclosure sweetheart.” He levelled the incongruous endearment not at Parker but at Hardison, “You’re going to struggle to drop off with me down the hall.”

“ENOUGH!” Parker shouted once, with some distress in her voice, before breathing through it. “Eliot, we sleep better at night because you’re down the hall.”  
She sounded earnest, but Eliot was still on the defensive.

“Well then you’re damned fools.” But his voice broke on the words. Alec could see the hitter’s eyes glistening even from across the room and he approached slowly.

“No Eliot. We’ve just remembered what you’re forgetting bro; you ain't the enemy. We ain’t the enemy. Nothing foolish about believing you’re going to keep us safe. You’ve proved it time and again. But you know what’s also been established well beyond doubt? We’re better off as a team.” 

By the time he’d finished talking, he’d walked right past Eliot, info the kitchen, turned off the gas and put a lid on the steaming chicken. As if to prove the point about working together, Parker silently popped the herbs and cucumber back in the refrigerator, while Alec put the kettle on the stove top and started the ritual of making tea.  
Parker rallied quickly, while Eliot stood, still panting and shaking. 

“Sparky, you’ve been anxious, you’ve been making Hardison run through the undergrowth and you’ve been teaching me more… fighting skills.” She carefully phrased her observation.  
“We know something is wrong. We deserve to know what it is.” Parker sounded quietly sure.

“And seriously man.” Hardison interjected, “Training Parker to be a hitter, while teaching me to run away, that’s just hurtful.” At that Eliot was glad to chuckle.

He sat down suddenly, turning a dining chair around so that he could look up at them both. 

“You remember the last Dubenich job?” Two nods in response, two pairs of raised eyebrows. Eliot continued.  
“To get Quinn, I had to offer more than money, I had to owe him one. He’s called in the favour."


	5. No Man Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time, Christmas got in the way!

He sat down suddenly, turning a dining chair around so that he could look up at them both.   
“You remember the last Dubenich job?” Two nods in response, two pairs of raised eyebrows. Eliot continued.   
“To get Quinn, I had to offer more than money, I had to owe him one. He’s called in the favour.”

“Called in the favour? Hardison’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Like, he wants you to water his plants while he’s on vay-kay? Or wants your recipe for Boston clam chowder? Ah! I got it Eliot, he wants you to be his running buddy in the New York marathon, you’re training me as your reserve, we’re running in aid of the Hitters Benevolent Society… yeh, makes sense... the weight training with Parker? That’s so she can carry our kit…”

“Dammit Hardison.” Eliot interrupted the rant, staying put in his chair, but bracing himself with his hands on his knees as if to arrest his own movement.  
“Dammit Eliot! You go ‘head and tell me you ain’t underplaying this brah. Tell me what he’s asked us to do? Because I know it’s damned dangerous if you’ve been prepping us this hard.” Hardison was caught somewhere between fear and fury.  
“Not us. Me. It’s an extraction, okay. It’s what I do.”  
“Not what we do?” Parker’s voice is quiet, her statement phrased like a question, not an accusation and Eliot flicks his eyes over to her, confused. But Hardison is still front and centre.  
“It’s been years Eliot.”  
“I didn’t put a time limit on the deal Hardison.” Eliot growled. “He can call it in any time he wants. He wants it now. I ain’t gonna welch on a deal. That ain’t my style and you know it. He delivered his end of our bargain and I gotta deliver mine.” He was resolute.  
“Wait, you’re planning to fly solo?” Hardison’s gone from sarcasm to disbelief.  
“You’re not doing this on your own.” Once again Parker sounded cool, her pitch gentle and quiet. She didn’t look at Eliot. Staring at the blank screen of Hardison’s laptop, where he’d dumped it on his way to the kitchen.  
“You didn’t make this bargain darlin’, I did. Quinn called on me. Anyway, he’s already in play. The hitter sounded resigned.  
Hardison threw his arms out, whether in frustration or else beseeching him, Eliot couldn’t be sure.  
“He says jump and you say how high?! And we just stand and watch? Very not cool man. Very not cool. He helped the team, all of us, take down Dubenich, not just you.” 

 

Eliot finally reaches the end of his ability to stay still, as if his fuse wire has burned down to the det charge and he’s primed to blow, he stands up with a grim force, but remains on the spot still as he speaks; 

“You ever notice we haven’t run across him on a single job since he worked for us, not one?” Eliot asked, making sure to keep eye contact. “I’ve seen his planning on a few security team set-ups, but by the time we go in…” Eliot ran off into silence.

“You recognised his planning?” Eliot raised a brow in answer and Alec continued. “Don’t tell me, it’s a very distinctive style of planning? Yeh, I’ve seen his name once or twice on early research and fact-finding, but he’s only ever really been a shadow from the past.” Alec conceded.

“After more’n a few years, with the high-rolling targets we go after. Not seeing Quinn picking-up any of those pay-packets? It’s not a coincidence Hardison. He’s not been getting in our way. I owe him a favour and I’m going to deliver.” Eliot jabbed his index finger into his own chest to enforce his point.

“So, after years of avoiding messing with the good guys, you’re telling me Quinn’s now going to do a job so risky that you can’t involve us? But you’re willing to wade in yourself?” Alec reached out and put his hand on the hitter’s shoulder, you can’t do that to yourself bro.”

Eliot looked up into the taller man’s eyes, “It ain’t that...” he started but seemed unable to find the air to respond. Parker saved him the trouble, as hushed and wintery as she had been throughout.

“That’s not what he’s afraid of.” Finally, she looked Eliot in the eye.

“What is it then Mama?” Hardison insisted on an answer from one of them, as Eliot stared at her with an expression which seemed almost like helpless appeal. The hitter felt trapped between Hardison’s large, warm hand on his body and Parker’s beautiful deep eyes pinning him to the spot. It was exquisite and painful all at once.

“He’s afraid he’s not coming back.” She said.

It was like her words had burned Eliot. Or the forcing of his worst fears to the fore, out of the dark, lonely recesses of his head and into the world had physically stung him. He recoiled then, from Parker’s gaze and Hardison’s touch. Marching noisily into the kitchen, the hitter started scooping the cooked and rested chicken into a large glass container, speaking to them, while actually just speaking to himself.

Parker slipped silently over to the sofa, her face arranged once again in vacant blankness, an expression not unlike a stopped clock. Although seeing her withdraw that way always cut Eliot to the quick, he carried on his diatribe:

“I can’t fucking do this. When did any of this become your damned decision to make huh? We’re a team sure, but you ain’t my Ma and Pa, I don’t got to get your permission to do this. If you two can’t see that I’m putting the safety of this team first, that I’m protecting you like I said I always would, then that’s your problem.” Eliot’s tone got more and more cold, but his accent more and more pronounced.

The man was talking nothing out here, and Hardison could see that plain as the nose on his face. Whether it was guilt or resentment fuelling it, the hacker couldn’t tell, but his friend was working himself into the kind of set-hard temper it was hard to shift from. Suddenly, Alec recognised the look on Eliot’s face. He’d seen it once or twice before, when a gun as pointed at himself or Parker. It was fear. Their hitter would look terrified, for no more than the nanosecond it took him to make the decision to throw himself in front of whatever danger threatened his people, his family, before running headlong directly at it. Even when that danger was a bullet. Right now, he was that kind of scared.

Eliot was done putting away uneaten food, was done hurling utensils into the sink with tight vehemence. Hardison figured he’d better interrupt him before he moved onto anything breakable, or else ran out of ways to avoid eye-contact and stormed out. It just seemed that point was being reached and Eliot looking for his exit, as Hardison spoke softly to him.

“El.” The unusual shortening of his name pulled Eliot’s eyes up to Hardison’s face, so he could see the tenderness and care there as he continued. “El, how long we been training me to run like the wind?”  
Eliot snorted at the description. “You ain’t been running like the…” He stopped, sighed, clearly decided to stop dissembling before he went on. “Three weeks and 2 days.” He replied with a hollow resignation.

“You’ve been hiding this from us for three weeks and you got a mental note of the number of days?” His tone wasn’t accusatory and from the look on Eliot’s face, it was clear to Hardison that he didn’t understand the questioning came from a place of concern. Their protector gave so much time, thought and energy to keeping them safe, that despite the mounting evidence all around him, that his two best friends were trying to take care of him too, emotional displays of worry, of empathy for him, still clearly came out of left field for Eliot and it made Hardison feel sad down to his bones.

“Seriously man. You’ve been worrying, hell no, more than that, you’ve been afraid, all that time and you didn’t ask us to help? You are not at your best when the danger is too far away to tackle Eliot. You should not be trying to do this on your own. We’re right here bro.” Hardison’s tone was soft, calm, his voice pitched deep and it was almost hypnotic. Eliot could feel himself surrendering to it.

But he wasn’t one to go down without a fight. 

“You two didn’t buy me up like some commissioned soldier, you don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” The words were ungracious and ground out in a way designed to provoke anger, but Hardison wasn’t taking the bait.

“Now that there is just offensive El, you know better than that and I ain’t even gonna credit that with a response.” The rebuttal was firm, but still the hacker’s tone was gentle, disappointed and full of care for his friend, not the anger which might keep this fight going. Hardison was channelling his Nanna and if he did say so himself, it was working.

Eliot reached his hands out to grip the edge of the counter, letting his head drop forward and his shoulders slump, like a man fronting-up to a huge millstone he must shoulder up a hill. Hardison could hardly stand to look at him like this, being torn apart by all the draws on his sense of responsibility and trying to do it alone. Nope it was not happening, not on his watch, no broken spirits or bleeding hearts while Alec was at the helm. He reached out a hand to push away the hair which was still long enough to hang across Eliot’s face when he slumped forward like this.

While the gesture was straight out of Nanna’s, ‘soothing a troubled teen’ playbook, somehow by the time Alec’s hand made contact with Eliot’s soft hair and warm cheek, it was charged with something richer, something with more passion. Whoa. Hardison surprised himself with his own sudden confidence in the move, but as their bodies connected, it was as if a circuit was completed and a surge of surety went through him.

For his part, Eliot leaned a little into the touch, it would have been imperceptible to anyone watching, but Hardison felt it. Barely moving a muscle, the other man dragged his eyes up to look at him from under his eyelashes, lids hooded and lips slightly parted. 

“You don’t have to protect us on your own man, keeping us safe, it’s meant to be a team effort.” Said Hardison, taking a slow but sure step further into Eliot’s space, so the hitter had to straighten up, letting go of the counter-top.

 

Hardison felt blood pounding in his ears as he pressed on. Securing an intimate moment with Eliot was still hard, at least as difficult as it had been with Parker in the beginning; the man could do an excellent impression of letting you close, of actually being close, without really exposing himself to any vulnerability. Building a deeper friendship with either of them had taken a careful chemical compound of patience and audacity, but he’d been experimenting with the right formula for years. It felt like the stakes had seldom been higher, so it was time to let the experiment run.

Pushing his fingers into Eliot’s hair while staying close, Hardison almost breathed the words into his face.   
“We can’t really be safe if we don’t know what risks you’re taking Eliot, because that rule we agreed, about no man left behind, that includes you. El, my man, could you watch either of us head directly into trouble without you?” 

The term of endearment seemed curiously loaded as it left Hardison’s lips and he watched Eliot’s chest heave, heard his breath catch a little, as he seemed to struggle to answer the question. In the end Eliot just briefly let the mingled fear and confusion pass across his face where his friend could see them, before shaking his head. Hardison gripped the back of Eliot’s neck in answer and it was then he saw something else on Eliot’s face, something with more heat.

Finally, Eliot seemed to find his senses. He placed his hand on Hardison’s chest, in a gesture which both reassured, while giving them the chance to move apart from each other a pace, to ease the curious physical intensity. It was okay, now Alec knew it was there, now that Parker had seen it, they could talk about it. Provided they can keep their Eliot safe for long enough. 

“Damnit Hardison!” Eliot broke into Alec’s meandering thoughts. “Where the hell is Parker?”  
Hardison looked over to where Parker was sitting on the sofa. Only, Parker was gone.


	6. 200lbs of Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are busy fighting and not kissing.  
> Parker is more focused on action.

She’d forgotten how tall he was. Still not quite as tall as Hardison, but as he walked towards the car, he stood straight, broad shoulders back, chin up. He cut an imposing figure. He wouldn’t have Eliot’s ability to blend in, to look less of an obvious threat, Parker thought. No. Any plans using this hitter would have to be pitched differently.

This analysis was a little concerning, because subconsciously she’d probably formulated the next stage of her plan with Eliot as the imagined target. Better hope he was a close enough approximation for this to come off. Watching the man walk purposefully across the parking lot, affecting a deceptive casual lope, while actually carefully scanning the area, Parker made a mental note to herself not to extrapolate so far in future.

But this was a plan made on the fly, she’d had to act quickly. Her first moves had been easy enough; Hardison had left his computer open so she’d discreetly established her target was realistic, her go-bag and one of Hardison’s had all been packed in the landing closet. The boys themselves had been seriously busy fighting and not kissing. At slipping out silently while others fought around her, Parker was the maestro. A lifetime of practice. 

The fact her charcoal grey catsuit and the lead colour beanie of Eliot’s she’d requisitioned on her way out, matched the interior of the car so well? That, she was pained to admit, was dumb luck. She shook her head tightly as if to dismiss the thought, she doesn’t believe in luck. Which is unfortunate, because for Quinn to not notice her concealed in the back, he needs to be distracted by the pile of baby rats she’d placed right next to the car door. There might be an element of luck required in that.  
Early experience had taught her where one might end up stumbling across a nest of baby rats in an underground parking lot; one of those life lessons you think at the time, when you’re trying to find somewhere to sleep, falls into the curse category, but later turns out to be a blessing! She suppresses a snort of laughter at that.

 

Timing her slide behind the driver’s seat perfectly, Parker acknowledges that there’s no luck involved there, so that’s something at least. As he ever so slightly mistimes a step, narrowly avoiding clomping a size 12 shoe on the squirming rodent babies, he looks down, giving her the short opening she needs.

As he closes the door, she whips the two loops of steel rope over Quinn’s body and the back of the Chair, with her usual lightning speed. It rests on the insides of his elbows, so even the hitter’s reflexes aren’t quite fast enough. It’s an awkward angle, he can do no more than shoot forward a few inches, attempting to gain the space to yank it back off or get a grip and gain purchase on it. The space gain is momentary though, he’s barely finished getting out the question, “What the fuck?!” before she has the electric winch motor running and has him secured to the back of the seat with two tight bands of braided steel.

And it’s got to hurt him as he forces what little movement he has under the rope, getting his hand down to the seat adjuster, attempting to tip it back, having presumably worked out the whereabouts of his attacker.

“Nope, no point. I turn the motor back on and it’ll apply 200lbs of pressure whether you’re laying flat or sitting up.” Says Parker coolly from behind his head. Then she realises he still can’t see her and while old habits die hard, this time it might be helpful to be seen. She pops her head up next to his headrest and he snarls in a way, which she classifies as his version of Eliot’s growl. Not as low or rumbling, but definitely plenty of implied danger.

 

“Parker. What in the name of God are you doing? I would say you don’t know who you’re messin’ about with, but I know you damned well do flower. So, you might want to speak now, because I’d hate to have to make you forever hold your peace.” He looked and sounded relatively unconcerned to Parker’s ears, as they watched one another in the rear-view mirror, she supposed the reduced startle reflex must be a feature of the breed.

“I’m not messing with you.” Parker calmly contradicts him. “I’m here to talk.”

“And all your conversations start by tying people up with steel ropes do they?” Quinn enquires, lips quirked on one side and eyebrows drawn together.

“I need to be sure you’re listening.”

“Well congratulations sweetpea. You got all my attention, you might want to be pondering if you’re going to regret that any time soon. I suppose this means Spencer changed his mind and told you he’s helping me?” Quinn’s voice sounds a little different now and Parker can see no physical reason for it. There’s emotional strain in his voice, a timbre she recognises but can’t classify. 

“You didn’t ask him to keep this between the two of you?” Parker felt another stab of sadness that this was Eliot’s decision. The expression showed on her face only for the briefest moment. She needed to stay focused here.

“You’ve climbed into my car to play the least sexy bondage game I’ve ever been a part of, just because you three are having a lovers tiff? Holy Mary, mother of God. It’s Spencer’s call Parker.” Quinn attempted to shrug at the close of his speech, which only served to remind him about his situation and he glared hard at his captor with another guttural noise from the back of his throat.

“I need you to come with me. Whatever the play is, we can do better as a team; quicker, smoother… safer. You need to join us, we’ll plan it together.” Parker nodded at him, to solidify her insistence.

“You and Hardison, you got your Robin Hood thing going on don’t you? You got not a single notion of whether you’ve still got the balls for what we got to do.” Quinn was speaking with a sneer, his breathing compressed into an angry pant which had nothing to do with Parker’s carefully judged binding.

“I think we should be allowed to decide for ourselves Quinn.” Parker’s face had fallen into it’s smooth mask of immobility, eyes cold and empty. 

It wasn’t lost on the hitter, that it was the kind of detachment which tended to be limited to his profession, or surgeons. He’d found it piqued his interest, though he wasn’t one to trespass, but from the first time he’d met her he’d seen an intriguing ribbon of steel running through her. Which brought him back to their current situation.

“You want to give me one good reason why I should go with you? I suppose you know I’m being watched? I’m in play already.” Quinn raised his eyebrows violently. “You don’t want to be here any more than I do if they come looking for me right now. I was only meant to be here an hour.”

Parker snorted out a laugh. “You only have two men on you. They didn’t see me. Last week you were here for an hour and ten minutes. Chiropractor right? But seriously, they didn’t see me! I don’t get caught. The quicker you stop arguing and we get on with losing them and getting out of here, the better.” She ended by blowing her fringe out of her eyes, as if he was exhausting her by being so slow on the uptake.

 

“I’m doing you a favour, you should be willing to do one for me in return.” She added with a huff.

“Sorry? What favour are you doing me?!” Quinn asked incredulously.

“I have you ringed with two titanium reinforced ropes, this winch can apply 200lbs of pressure, it’s custom made. I could set it running and cut you clean in half.” Parker screwed up her face as if imagining the mess that would make, but her tone implied that settled it.

“So, your idea of doing me a favour is to climb into my car, incapacitate me and then not cut me in half?” Quinn was clearly taken aback by this insight into logic according to Parker. But honestly, it was starting to occur to him that you just couldn’t argue with this much crazy.

“You have a plan to lose my babysitters?” Quinn’s tone was one, if not of defeat, then of tactical withdrawal.

“I’ve got Hardison’s EMP gun with me.” Grinned Parker in triumph.

“Okay, I can live with having the whole team in on this. But you untie me, I find the prospect of being sliced like a block of asiago weirdly distracting. And I drive.” He’s focused now. 

Parker had banked on Quinn’s time constraints bringing the negotiations within a workable timescale, but this hadn’t been as hard as she’d feared. She didn’t like it when things were too easy. 

 

It was possible he’d just wait until she released him and then casually break her neck, or garotte her with her own climbing rope? But probably not, because that’d take a bit longer. He probably had a gun somewhere, though Parker hadn’t found one in easy reach… but this was eating their last three minutes before he might be considered missing by the two heavies watching him…

“I won’t kill you.” Quinn said quietly, eyes seeking out hers in the rear-view mirror and waiting.

She clicked the auto- release and he was free. By the time he’d turned around to address her face to face, she was already out of the car and throwing her gear in the trunk, which she’d clearly picked along with the rest of the doors. He climbed out to see what the hell was being stashed back there. 

“You got a plan for this, mastermind?” Quinn asked. “Because unless it involves me driving, you can forget it.”

“They need to not see me, so it involves you driving. I’ll hit the car with the EMP on the lowest setting at the set of lights one mile north on the way back to your place. But we’re not going there. You have your go-bag with you?” 

“You didn’t check if I had my go-bag?” Quinn queried, looking confused. “I might have a gun or C4 or a knife stashed back here.” 

 

“You probably do, right?” She asked, barely looking up, meaning the question as rhetorical. “Standard tools of the trade, otherwise it’s like me coming with no climbing gloves. You’d all have knives, gun, maybe explosives. Unless you’re Eliot I guess, he doesn’t like guns and he says he’s the best because he doesn’t need to carry an arsenal, he can improvise.” She smiled to herself. “I guess he is our arsenal.” 

She was loading kit into the boot from two huge duffels in the neighbouring vehicle, a dark red station wagon, didn’t seem a very smart choice for this gig. Quinn watched her chuckle gently to herself as she spoke about Eliot. So, that was still how things were with them still, he thought. Asking himself, “I wonder how Hardison feels about that state of affairs.” But out loud he asked her:

“What about your car?” 

“Not mine. Broke in. Not damaged. Let’s blow.”

And she was back in the rear seat, only barely visible to him and he knew she was there. He shook his head and shrugged. He climbed back in to the driver’s seat, started the engine and was about to ask questions when she spoke without prompting as he drew breath. 

“They were waiting in the exit slip from the diner on the northbound, so they think they already know where you’re going. Pretty amateur. We’ll take your usual route to the Junction with Raleigh, I’ll hit them with the EMP while they’re stopped at the lights, with the rumble of the freeway overhead, it’ll take a moment before they even notice the engine has stopped, they definitely won’t know what happened or why they lost you.”

He’d already headed for the down ramp at the leisurely pace. They’d used the ten minutes he’d spent at his last two appointments flirting the receptionist and if they took any longer, the two goons tracking him would come looking.

 

They weren’t the smartest on the client’s team, not wise guys in the useful sense. With Quinn on the payroll and carrying a reputation the boss wasn’t too worried about him, but a basic level of monitoring until the job was in the bag, or in the ground, was to be expected. He could have lost them all day long and twice on Sundays, but that in itself was part of the test of his commitment to the task at hand. They needed to be disposable army ants, in case they saw something they didn’t need to as part of the clean-up Quinn would… need to clean them up. These things were understood. Though probably not by the guys themselves, he chuckled ruefully.

As she’d predicted, they had remained in the slip road opposite, mounting a curb and generally inviting a parking citation. The trouble with army ants, is while they were easily confused or lost, they were also easily spooked. He didn’t like being shot and he needed to be the only hitter on this job. Someone else would just take the shot and that wasn’t the plan.

As he drove past them, easy to pick-up, not wanting to give any early indication he was going to lose them, they slipped into traffic with one other car between them.

“They’ll stay one back, usually do.” He spoke now that he could be sure they wouldn’t notice he was talking with someone.

“Can you see any kids in the car behind?” Parker asked as they approached the allotted intersection, like a disembodied voice from the backseat. 

“No kids. Guy, shirt and tie, black Audi Sedan.” Quinn answered with only pertinent facts. 

 

“He’ll have AAA. Count me down from 3 when you’re stopping.” She instructed. And five seconds later he did.

“Three, two, one…” He didn’t flick his eyes from the signals in front of him. As he counted down, she slid out of the car before he’d even stopped, then was back inside all in a crouch as the lights changed to green and he headed straight on as he usually did towards his rented apartment. As he pulls away he can catch in the rear view a car horn and neither Audi driver with a tie nor the pair of unwise guys move an inch.

“At the next lights take a right and head back on yourself, we need to pick up the 505 south.” Still the floating voice from the back somewhere.

“You spending the entire journey back there?” Quinn enquired casually.

“Once we’re on the freeway there’s not the same kind of cameras to hack. I mean they probably can’t anyway, Hardison makes it look easy, but apparently it isn’t. So he says. Quite often.” And there’s that tone again, the same warm softness he’d heard when she spoke about Spencer. He could hear the smile on her face without seeing it. So that’s how it was with them still. He wonders how his fellow hitter feels about that.

She stays silent for the next ten minutes, he watches the mirrors, but they don’t pick-up a tail. The traffic report from the local station, set to kick in with alerts automatically for this afternoon, tells them that the intersection with Raleigh and NW12th is snarled up due to two broken down vehicles on the northbound side.

 

Whether she hears a pitch change as the road surface changes, if she has the same excellent internal compass he’s seen Spencer deploy or if it’s the change in speed, he doesn’t know, but as soon as they hit the freeway, she unfolds herself from behind the passenger seat, like a supple leather belt unwinding as it’s pulled from one’s belt loops. 

She’s got to be thirty now and the markers of a hard life are easily identifiable to a man in his line of work. But she’s still long and lean and limber. He doesn’t hear any hitches in her breath, as she stretches, no creaking of any joints, no sign of aging at all. Except, he amends himself, perhaps the calm smoothness of their escape. As she curls herself, serpentine, around into the passenger seat, she barely touches him.

And a few thoughts occur to him about the smoothness of this plan. He wonders if she’ll be secretive, like a good magician might protect trade secrets, or if she’ll take pleasure from sharing her smarts, like her mentor and trainer had seemed to do. 

“How’d you know I was at the chiropractor?”

“Hardison has a warm-list, people he tracks all the time, as a matter of course. You’re on it.” She answers apparently unabashed but also without boastfulness.

“Only warm?” He doesn’t know if he should be offended or not. 

“I’ve switched you up to hot now.” She sounds a little annoyed, or possibly something more delicate. Hurt? Since he doesn’t need to understand the context right now but would like her to keep sharing what she’s willing to, he changes tack.

“Did you get rid of the receptionist, so I wouldn’t stay and talk to her?” He sounds dubious, but in his experience, such useful coincidences aren’t the feature of a really good plan.

“I saw her and the way you looked at her when you went in. So I hit her car and then rang in to report it while you were face down having your bones cracked.” Parker smirked. “It bought me ten minutes to explain why you needed to come with me.” She closed with a little nod, a kind of physical marker of her ticking a task off her mental to-do list.

“And how long have you been planning to be a one woman press-gang sweetpea?” How long did it take her to plan to half-kidnap, half soft-soap, a high-risk target like himself?

“Since I realised I definitely wasn’t getting my dinner.” She said, finishing tapping away on her phone. “The folks in Lyons don’t know Parker, they know Alice. I need to stop at a mall, and so do you, unless you’re carrying jeans, plaid and some sensible boots?” She stood a smart phone in his cup holder.

“Tom Baker will give you directions.” She held up her hand as if to silence any questions about any part of her instructions. “I didn’t choose the voice.”

And with that, she closed her eyes and, as far as Quinn could tell, went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This writer so badly wants to get to some smut, but the plot gets in the way.
> 
> I'm working hard on Chapter 7, but I really could use some reviews! Good or bad, need the feedback.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, story is growing! 
> 
> I'd really appreciate some feedback, it's my first fix, so thoughts on pace and characterisation much valued.


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